Anything I want, right?
by xwetparchmentx
Summary: Hermione finds that meeting with Miss Rita Skeeter turns down a different road than previously expected.  *WARNING* This story contains two characters owned by J.K. Rowling and are in no way shape or form my own. This story contains non-consenting sex, fem-slash and a bit of violence.


Meeting Rita Skeeter at The Three Broomsticks wasn't what gave Hermione the shivers; getting her to agree was.

She attempted to be tall, powerful, along with intimidating as she strode into the cozy bar, but she failed terribly. As soon as her eyes fell on the mature blonde, sitting at a table next to a fire place, her heart dove for the grave.

The fire lit up the left side of Rita's face, outlining her lovely lips and jaw line. She scribbled something down on a piece of parchment absently, having no idea she was being watched intently. Shaking her head of curls, she crumpled up the piece of parchment and threw it into the fire, reaching for her glass of fire whiskey before she drained it quickly. She must have been uneasy, too.

"Ahem." Hermione coughed, trying to break the awkward silence from across the room. Rita spotted her quickly, giving her a look of suspicion.

"What are you doing just _standing_ there?" Poison dripped from her words, long nails tapping at the table impatiently. Hermione was quite aware that she was just covering up nerves. Hermione stood awkwardly next to the table, unsure whether to sit down or not. Was she going to shake her hand or something?

"Well sit down, girl." Rita demanded as she ordered another fire whiskey. Quite the alcoholic she was, though still fabulous. Her nails were painted a lovely charcoal to match the charcoal suede pea coat she wore. It looked quite light for the harsh winter they were experiencing. Her plump lips were still painted that bright red though, and her cheeks were as rosy as ever. Warm from the whiskey, Hermione supposed.

"Listen, _please_" Hermione started quietly, taking her seat,"Please stop the articles… Stop the bashing! Harry really doesn't appreciate it! It isn't helping us now at all… You know well what's going on, so stop looking at me like that-"Hermione stopped abruptly, unable to push further. There was a glaze over Rita's eyes now, and a smirk began to curve her lips.

"You're ridiculous, Granger. I'm only doing my job." She took the glass from the waiter's hand, sipping diligently, "She'll have one too, love." Who the hell would care if the girl was underage? Rita certainly didn't.

"Y- your job- I can't drink that Rita, I'm-"

"Hush. Don't worry about them. These _are_ dark times. Live it up a little." Rita gave a toothy smile, "I was never so stiff at your age."

"Well that explains a lot, doesn't it?" Hermione snapped as she shyly took the glass from the waiter who had returned. Rita chuckled when she saw Hermione blush at the waiter when he eyed her suspiciously. Hermione could feel heat rising in her chest when Rita shifted in her seat, an aroma of alcohol and a very sweet smelling perfume emitting from her.

"Is it stirring up so many problems, then? My writings?" Rita downed the rest of her whiskey again, "Drink up!" she added.

"Do you read your articles before you publish them? Of _course_ they are! The gossip you hear around here is treacherous. But I suppose no one tells you, because _you_ started it all."

"Oh, lay off girl. Fabrication pays. Quite well, I might add." Rita withdrew a long, thin metal case from inside her coat, opening it to get a cigarette. She lit the tip with her wand and took a long drag.

"And the money is worth ruining other's reputations?" Hermione said coldly, sipping lightly at the stinging whiskey. Rita frowned when she said that, leaning back slightly. She scowled as she blew a cloud of smoke towards Hermione, tapping the end on an ashtray.

"What do you want, Granger?"

"I want you to stop. Stop the bashing on everyone. Why don't you look for the actual truth? Get out there and-"

"Ha!" Rita laughed, "You think I have patience for that sort of thing? Going out and risking _my_ life for a story? Why, when I can exaggerate the truth?"

"It's better than risking others, like Harry's. Or mine." Hermione figured she'd try throwing herself in. Rita contemplated this as she swirled her new glass of whiskey, cigarette still in hand.

"What are the terms, then?" Rita asked coldly.

"No writing slander for a year. You may write, but _only_ the truth. Me, Ron and Harry will decide what you do and don't publish, considering some of the things you do publish are quite risqué."

"I will not have some nitwits telling me what to write! It's out of the question!" Rita snapped, slamming her glass down.

"Oh, that's too bad then. I suppose I ought to tell the ministry about a little beetle that's been flying around-"Rita's face went white at the mention of her animagus.

"Shut it, girl!" Rita snapped, leaning forward slightly after a few moments of thought. She'd be an idiot not to oblige, "What's in it for me?"

"Um…" Hermione hadn't planned on getting this far, so off of the top of her head she said, "Anything. You name it." Rita's smile made Hermione a bit uncomfortable.

"First of all, finish that." Rita glanced at Hermione's unfinished drink.

"But-"

"Anything I want, right?" Rita interrupted as she stood. Hermione sighed and drained it down, looking up afterwards with a sour look on her face.

"Now follow me." Rita said, walking out of the pub and out into the cold. Hermione hurried to catch up to her, following her down the lovely lit up street of Hogsmeade until they were in a small clearing where no one was around.

"What are we doing here?" Hermione's heart began to beat rapidly as a horrible feeling of distrust overcame her.

"Take my arm, love." Rita outstretched her arm slowly, wondering if she would. Hermione shakily put her hand in Rita's, and in an instant they had apparated into an exquisite, warm, bright home. The walls were a bright white, and the floors were a lovely oak wood. Warm light emitted from candles placed absently around the room, on small tables, walls, and in the air. A fire place sat to the left of the front door where an armchair sat, and a beige couch sat opposite. Hermione felt weak when an aroma of warm vanilla hit her nose, mixed with the alcohol she had just emptied. She realized this setting really didn't fit Rita Skeeter at all.

"Why are we here?" Hermione asked quietly as she fingered through the many books that sat around.

"I just want company, honestly. It'd be nice to have someone around while I tidy up my articles before I get them published…" Rita muttered as she shook off her coat and draped it over an armchair that sat close to the fireplace.

"It's quite lonely here, as you could imagine…" Rita added as she trailed into another room Hermione assumed was a kitchen. The clinking of glasses and ice echoed in Hermione's head. When Rita reappeared from the kitchen, she was holding a tall goblet of wine and a plate with treacle tart on it.

"I suppose I ought to feed you something. You look dreary!" She set the plate down on the coffee table in front of Hermione.

"I'm not hungry at all…" Hermione breathed.

"Eat the damn thing. You'll feel better." Sipping her wine and shaking her head, Rita sat down in the arm chair, staring into the fire, "You're quite the light weight, if you ask me."

"Alcohol isn't my beverage of choice." Hermione snapped, picking at the tart with her fork. She found soon that the tart did help her head and stomach. The dizziness began to lessen until she felt close to normal. By this time, Rita had pulled out that much hated parchment- but no quill. Hermione lazily flipped through the pages of those random books lying around, yawning here and there as Rita scribbled viciously away at the parchment with a black quill.

"Leaving for the holiday at all?" Rita muttered suddenly, looking up to lock with Hermione's gaze.

"Oh- erm, not that I know of… my parents haven't mentioned anything…" The question was a bit pretense for Rita, being that she only ever asked personal questions. Hermione's eyes narrowed at the thought. She was probably going to ask them anytime now.

"Hm." Rita breathed as she returned to her parchment.

"Why do you review the articles like that? If that quill does it all for you…"

"Well it isn't _perfect_, now is it? I have to remove all the 'oohs' and 'ahhs'… Not everything people discuss is necessarily eye catching, either. Some of these articles go straight to the trash time to time." Rita said, glancing at Hermione. "This one is good enough for now, I suppose."Rita added, glancing at her empty glass of wine.

"Ms. Skeeter, your current articles count as well. I will have you know. I can't have you lying on the day of our agreement."

"I'm not going to lie with you sitting here before me. Do you think I'm some common idiot?" Rita's words were beginning to slur together. Rita smirked at Hermione, fiddling with the parchment in her hands. She could see that Hermione was attempting to overrule her, but it wasn't going to fly here. She had met quite her match. She thought of the young girl, so fresh, so innocent, and so boisterous, the energy she radiated was more than enough for Rita to indulge her mind with. The Ministry of Magic already knew of her unregistered animagus, but she wouldn't tell Hermione that, yet. She figured there would be a mutually enjoyable experience if she kept the young girl in suspense. The cool sheen of her big brown eyes, the pouty lips, everything seemed to be scared and naive about this girl, Rita had never seen something so wonderful in her life.

"I'm sure you'd think of something cunning. It's in your nature."

"Cunning, huh? I could _show_ you cunning." Rita smirked once more and winked lazily. Hermione thought nothing of the intoxicated woman's words. Her point was to get Ms. Skeeter to stop spreading her venomous lies.

"I'm sure," Hermione said through pursed lips, "What you say though isn't necessarily what you'll do. How can I trust you?"

"I'd never lie to you. Journalists' honor." Rita ungracefully raised her left arm.

"Right there! You're supposed to raise the right, you ridiculous woman."

"Oh dear me, I do suppose you're right." Rita then raised her right, swaying slightly.

"I've had enough, I think." Hermione snapped, standing quickly to head for the front door.

"Don't leave just yet, Granger." Rita muttered haphazardly, dropping her parchment on the floor and standing clumsily to meet her stance. Rita's mind raced with thoughts of Hermione's small frame, trying to come up with any way to keep her from leaving. Suddenly she had an epiphany, the terms of their agreement! She could have exactly what she wanted and Miss Granger couldn't resist...

"I'm not going to put up with your nonsense any longer!" Hermione snapped in Rita's face when she was inches away. Rita then grabbed her arm, saying in her slickest tone, her voice almost dripping with a mysterious poison, "You said I could have anything, right?"

"You can't be serious! You're deranged! I'd never!" Hermione turned towards the door, attempting to open it until Rita slammed her up against it. She pressed her body into Hermione's back, her pace in breath quickening.

"Oh, but I am my dear." Her breath was hot on Hermione's neck, the scent of alcohol lingering around her mouth. "_I'm going to ruin you_." Rita knew that she needed this. She couldn't allow Hermione to leave… her body craved it, her mind wanted it, and her soul _ached_ for it.

"Please… Please don't, Rita…" Hermione's voice quivered in horror.

"Please!" Hermione cried out softly in surprise when Rita spun her around to meet her lusty gaze, her red lips pressed into a hard line. Hermione struggled against Rita's wandering hand, shifting uneasily against every touch of those sharp talons. She easily broke the buttons holding her rose colored blouse together, smirking as her finger trailed over the lacy white bra she wore, all the while making Hermione yelp and blush. No one had ever seen her non-mentionables before. She was disgusted, first at Rita for making her blush, then at herself, her heart pounding so loud that Rita must have been able to hear it.

Hermione's adrenaline was pumping so hard it made her feel a strange high, and she began to struggle violently. Her eyes were singeing with hot tears, and her face was twisted into a look of dread. She couldn't believe anything like this could happen, she knew Rita was vile, but not like this! This was something no one could hear about, something that she would have to escape from. Her struggles were for naught though; Rita's hands were stronger than hers. Rita smirked as Hermione twisted and squirmed under her, knowing full well that she had Hermione right where she wanted her.

"Strip down." Rita loosened her grip and stepped back an inch. There was no way out. Rita had her cornered. She obliged, sobbing silently and removing the remainder of her blouse, then her shoes, socks and jeans. The reporter's eyes scanned up and down the girl's body, enjoying each and every inch of her semi-naked body she could see. Hermione's body quivered, not because of the slight chill of the room, but because her sobbing had become worse. Her makeup seemed to melt from her eyes and cheeks, dripping onto her neck and staining her bra. Rita followed the trails the makeup made, first with her eyes, then with her fingertips, almost drawing on the poor girl. She stopped, slipping the finger covered in salty tears and mascara between those red lips as she contemplated. She strode over to the fire place, never removing her eyes from Hermione.

"Come here, girl." She instructed sharply. Hermione stopped her loud sobbing. Her headache wasn't making matters any better. She walked slowly to the spot where Rita pointed, looking anywhere but the woman's eyes. Rita slowly paced around Hermione, watching every breath, every quiver, and every shake intently, studying her prey before she'd decide to pounce. She liked the way the crackling fire lit up Hermione's curves, perfected her skin, and gave her that _glow_ she craved.

Rita moved to stand behind the girl, fingers tracing the curves of Hermione's neck-line, her lips following her fingers. She kissed Hermione's neck gently, her fingers slowly, methodically unhooking the bra, sliding it off Hermione's arms and dropping it thoughtlessly to the floor. Rita thought of only one thing: Hermione's almost-naked body here in her home, and she wanted to see it all, _have it all_.

Rita's red lipstick covered Hermione's body. She could feel each of the girl's heartbeats as she kissed the spine of her neck softly, flicking her tongue out here and there. Her fingers looped into the elastic of her last piece of clothing, tugging gently, and feeling Hermione tense at the thought of being naked. She loved the scent of fear and desperation surrounding the girl, and Rita gave a final harsh yank, tearing the cloth away from Hermione's forbidden fruit, making her whimper. She bit her lip, feeling the need to do more, to touch, to taste, to enjoy everything she could from this girl.

"It won't hurt that bad, love." Rita cooed as she moved around to her front, hungrily gazing at Hermione as she went for her throat. She kissed, nibbled and bit her way up Hermione's jaw line until she met those pouty lips, parting them with her own into a rough open kiss. Hermione could only taste alcohol, practically retching when she felt Rita's tongue against her upper lip, playing at the entrance. Hermione shuttered when Rita slipped her tongue in, forcing hers to dance along. She hated Rita, and her body tried to recoil again but couldn't. Rita's grip was surprisingly stronger than anything else she'd ever felt. She had to escape; she'd try anything, even violence. Her eyes narrow suddenly as she got an idea, opening her mouth slightly wider and biting down roughly on Rita's lip, hard enough to break skin and surprise her but not much else. She didn't even let go of the poor girl, but she did pull back.

"You little wench… Oh, you'll regret that." Rita spat in her face, kissing her harder. Her clothes were beginning to feel like a second layer of skin. She seized Hermione's hands and pulled them away from her body, flicking her tongue once more against Hermione's before she brought her head back. She guided Hermione's hands up underneath her long sleeved shirt, pulling it over her head with her. Rita then pulled the young woman's hands to her hips, her breath quickening with excitement. She forced Hermione's hands to grip her thin skirt and pull it off quickly. The feelings inside her were brimming, almost ready to burst out in a single act of passion. Hermione blushed as a new trail of hot tears ran down her cheeks, seeing the half-naked woman who had hid under the skirt. Rita brushed her body roughly against Hermione's, readying her for the next move.

"Turn. " Rita instructed, adding "_Now_." when Hermione did not act quickly. Hermione turned quickly when Rita grabbed a fist full of her hair and pulled her. Her hands glided down her shoulders, breasts, and waist until they rested on her hips.

"Let us see here…" She muttered in her ear, moving her hands inward until she felt that familiar heat.

"_No!_" Hermione shrieked, completely ashamed and mortified. She made an effort to pry Rita's hands from her, closing her legs as tight as they would go.

"Oh, just _stop_! You're relentless! Just let go!" Rita growled, pulling away and grabbing her arms. She yanked them behind Hermione's back and held both hands together with her left hand. She dove her right hand back between her thighs, pulling them apart for easier entrance. She scoffed, smiling deviously to herself.

"Well, well… You're _dripping_ wet, Granger. _How about that?_" She licked her lips as she slipped a finger in, gliding in and out slowly as Hermione clenched her muscles.

"Stop tensing and you won't bleed as much." Rita breathed, resting her chin on the nape of Hermione's neck. She slipped a second finger in, slowing the pace even more as she opened her. Hermione cried out painfully, bending forward slightly. Her hot tears hit the floor over and over, Rita pressing in another finger. She hushed her, gripping Hermione's hands harder as she quickened her pace, pulling her against her. She glanced down at her hand, moaning at the sight of Hermione's blood and juices on her fingers.

"I'm going to let go of your hands. Defy me and I'll shove another finger in there." Rita warned, letting go when Hermione stifled another sob. She reached her free hand around her hip now, pressing her thumb roughly against her rosy nub. Rita grinned at Hermione's writhing body, loving every second of this and knowing how much Hermione hated it. She began to crave making the girl scream for her- _in pain_. She pulled her hand back for a second to taste the mix of blood and juices on her lips, quickly replacing it in one hard thrust. She caressed her nub in circles between her thumb and fore finger, fucking her relentlessly as Hermione's cries became the most prominent sound in the room. Her own heart began to flutter, gritting her teeth as she grunted with the working of her hands. She could feel Hermione's walls clasping around her hand, and she bit her ear lobe hard, claiming her.

"That's it. Cum like a good girl for mummy." She snarled in her ear, feeling Hermione shutter beneath her touch. Hermione's cries fell silent as she swung her head back against Rita's, stiffening as the strongest wave of heat she had ever felt washed over her. Her skin prickled, her hairs stood on their ends. Rita let her ride out the bliss on her fingers, that _hated_ bliss, until she fell to her knees.

"Good girl." Rita exhaled. Her smirk turned quickly to a look of lust, the stinging moving through her own body not quite indulging enough. She needed her own body sought after, now. Her eyes turned down to the girl on her knees in front of her. She strode to the front of the helpless girl, bending down to touch her chin with the tip of her bloody fingernail.

"_Look at me._" She pressed upwards hard, forcing Hermione's eyes to meet with hers. The girl was weak, reduced down to nothing, unable to fight anymore. She was practically limp in her hands. Her lips were red and swollen from kisses, her neck darted with Rita's violent teeth marks, her eyes empty of that young school girl innocence… It was enough to push Rita over the top.

She suddenly left Hermione where she kneeled, sitting on that lovely armchair and crossing her legs for a moment.

"Over here." Rita instructed her, motioning her over with her finger when she turned her head slightly to look at her. Hermione crawled over slowly, the pain between her legs still throbbing, if at all getting worse. She felt small, belittled and pathetic. She wished Rita were dead.

"Go ahead, rat. Take them off." Rita commanded, spreading her legs so Hermione could slip off her slinky panties. Rita grabbed a fistful of Hermione's hair and jerked her forward, burying her mouth between her hips. Already soaked and aching to the touch, she moaned as Hermione flicked her tongue halfheartedly between her warm folds, tears rolling thoughtlessly down her cheeks. Rita used her free hand to spread her lips and work herself alongside Hermione's tongue, feeling that final build up with much anticipation. A soft, long moan escaped her lips as she reached the top, grinding her hips against Hermione's mouth and falling back into the chair. Hermione felt Rita's grip loosen slowly, her body recovering from the overwhelming feeling still rocking through her. Hermione couldn't move, couldn't feel anything but her injured body, and she certainly couldn't think, more afraid of what was going to happen next rather than what already had.

Rita's breathing had slowed now, and she gazed down at the stunned girl.

"I'll fix you up, now. Get your things together." She purred softly, the lusty glint in her eyes finally gone. Hermione was quick to act, pulling her clothing into a pile in her arms. Rita stood slowly from her chair, finding her purse sitting on the coffee table and withdrawing her wand from it. She whispered spells to clean herself up before getting redressed, doing the same to Hermione. She made all the violent marks on Hermione's frail body go away with a few swishes of the wand, fixing her ripped clothing also. She guided her to the door, getting flinches and yelps whenever she would raise a hand on the way. She would let her go thinking she could get Rita in Azkaban. She laughed to herself at the thought.

When she was almost ready to throw the poor girl out onto the street, she had a novel idea.

"Come here, girl." she said forcefully, pulling Hermione against her once more. "If you're good for mummy, this won't hurt very much, but if you fight me, I'll make sure it does." Hermione cringed as Rita leaned in, sinking her teeth deep into her neck to leave dark purple teeth marks. She pulled away, chuckling darkly.

"That's so all of your little boyfriends know that someone already owns you, girl."


End file.
